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The Bangalore Review

The Bangalore Review

Vol. XIII | Issue 5 | February 2026

  • Non-Fiction
    • Art
    • Book Reviews
    • Cinema
    • Creative Non-Fiction
    • Culture
    • Literature
    • Memoirs
    • Music
    • Nature & Environment
    • Philosophy
  • Specials
    • Editorial
    • TBR Recommends
    • TBR Roundtable
    • Translations
    • Fiction Special 2024
      • Peripheries – of Being and Living
      • Promises Made and Promises Broken – the NATURE of Things
      • Writing From the Peripheries of Language
      • Queering Language
      • Anthologies – The Editorial Perspective
  • Fiction
    • Flash Fiction
    • Short Fiction
  • Poetry
V
Categories
  • Fiction
September, 2018

Voices from the dark

“Lassiwala..oy… lassiwala!” The young girl’s voice drifted down the dark, rain-washed corridor of the chawl. She stood for a moment at the door of their..
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Categories
  • Fiction
September, 2018

The Gift

The lane in front of the school was a nightmare with its worn-out tarmac, non-existent pavement and the huge buses, mud flecked cars, rickety vans,..
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T
Categories
  • Fiction
September, 2018

THE FLY HAS NO PITY

Cooch Behar, West Bengal, India That week the rains came. On the morning of July 21 there was a heavy shower and a good deal..
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F
Categories
  • Poetry
September, 2018

For the sister in heaven

For twenty-one days, we’d visit Cold rooms of a strange hospital – Eager to see a baby with hydrocephalus breathe. But I’m glad you never..
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T
Categories
  • Poetry
September, 2018

The Young Maid

Dawn cracks over Delhi like a smooth, white egg, sunny yolk of hope, perennially dented, imperfect, in the welkin; on the wall, last night’s smoke..
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Categories
  • Poetry
September, 2018

Heavy Bodies

“This is the Hour of Lead – Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow – First – Chill – then Stupor – then..
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Categories
  • Poetry
September, 2018

Making Ash

(for Ganga, 1937-2016) “The silence of the dead is easily ignored.”- C. Dale Young You’ll never be archaeology; they’ll never find your bones. Cause today,..
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Categories
  • Music
  • Non-Fiction
August, 2018

Living with Jazz

I was painfully aware of my lack of a jazzer’s ear the year I spent playing tenor saxophone in my high school jazz band. I..
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M
Categories
  • Fiction
August, 2018

More Than You Know

When I was nine years old, I accidentally knocked over my father’s vase. It was the last decoration his late wife bought for the house..
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T
Categories
  • Fiction
August, 2018

The Session

The therapist’s office looked out over the park. Gold curtains framed the windows, the ends grazed oat-colored shag carpet. The room was spartan; only a..
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T
Categories
  • Fiction
August, 2018

The Ward

The proctology ward is quarantined.  My clothes are taken from me, and after inspection, my records and personal belongings are passed to the inside through..
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T
Categories
  • Fiction
August, 2018

The Greek

His narrow rib cage, emphasized by his bustier, reminded her of a twelve year old girl’s. He had wild, curly black hair and a dark..
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Categories
  • Fiction
August, 2018

Long Division

Rosaline: Without fail, I used to catch the 6:51 pm train back home. It always had just enough people in it and I would be..
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Categories
  • Fiction
August, 2018

Bronx Deli

After my grandfather, Itsik Gelber, died, my grandmother, Lena, moved from the apartment she’d lived in for forty years on Bronx Park South.  Her new..
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Categories
  • Poetry
August, 2018

Venusian Flowers

I examine her face closely on Pinterest— the cracked skin, the oval sidelong face, the ripples of red hair small breasts, strong abdominal muscles, wide..
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Categories
  • Poetry
August, 2018

French for Downpour

Everything went back to normal: Grandma dead again, me eyeing the farmer’s sons, trying to pull off my gloves as roughly as they did theirs...
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Categories
  • Poetry
August, 2018

Apart

A pot of potatoes for pirogis now bubbles a cauldron of chicken feet with no alpha in between. Chopped liver should be chopped, in the..
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O
Categories
  • Poetry
August, 2018

Outside the Margins

CategoriesPoetry
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Categories
  • Cinema
  • Non-Fiction
July, 2018

Medea on Prozac

Dyna Kassir's essay is a collection of speculative thoughts, diverse and scattered but many times blended and regrouped, inspired by the 2008 movie “Slumdog Millionaires” directed by Danny Boyle.
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Categories
  • Fiction
July, 2018

Jack’s a Martian

People usually escape from their troubles into the future; they draw an imaginary line across the path of time, a line beyond which their current..
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Categories
  • Fiction
July, 2018

Surviving in Michoacán

“Four men got out of the van,” Carmen told Detective Ruiz who looked like he spent more time across the street at the Gorditas Doña..
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Categories
  • Fiction
July, 2018

The Ears Have It

At some point, I began noticing people’s ears. One man wore tiny, square, rimless reading glasses. His long brown hair was tied in a bun,..
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The Bangalore Review
Vol. XIII | Issue 5 | February 2025

ISSN 2770-0828

Published online every month by Spanning Minds, Inc.

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